Chapter 12 – Thief
Askaro looked under the bins. A grubby face topped with unevenly cut, matted hair glared back at him. “Let me go!” The whisper was harsh and demanding.
Askaro didn’t want to draw the attention of the men. He crouched down but didn’t release his hold. “Who are you?”
“Blin. Now let go.”
Heavy boots shuffled in their direction. “I thought I heard something back here, Drew.”
Askaro tensed. He glanced into the shadows where Blin was huddled. There wasn’t enough room for both of them. He didn’t want to endanger anyone else. “Stay hidden.” He let go and dashed down the central isle for the door.
The tracker was startled and lost his balance, falling backward into a stack of small boxes. He cursed loudly. “Drew! It’s him!”
Askaro darted past the other tracker and ducked around the corner of the doorway. He could see figures in the fog moving along Fowler Street and went the other way. He could hear the sounds of boots running and shouting behind him. They must have alerted the rest of Golarin’s crew.
The street turned. All the buildings along it were tall, their rooftops lost in the mist. Askaro had no choice but to continue down the street. It ended at Fowler. He looked to his left and saw men running toward him from the sharp corner where Fowler turned. He went the other way and raced up the stairs. He considered jumping up onto the low rooftop as he got close but the fog frightened him. There were too many sheer drops on the other side of those buildings. He got back to the intersection and went left. Instead of staying on the main street, he took the first street that went right.
The building to his right only had one gable above the shops. Eves hung over the narrow walkway beside the building. He judged the distance. It was about seven units to the edge of the roof. He’d seen a stone wall above that roof the day before. There was nothing to use as a step. He leaped toward the roof. His fingers grabbed the crumbling tiles. He started to slip.
Muffled voices warned him that he was out of time. Askaro readjusted his grip and swung his legs upward, catching the edge with a foot. He struggled but finally managed to squirm onto the tiles. Men ran down the street below him. Askaro laid still. They came to the corner and almost ran into a couple of their companions. “He must have gone the other way. Come on!”
Askaro waited until the sounds faded. He carefully got to his hands and knees, cautious on the wet tiles. The roof slanted upward beside the gable. He slowly made his way up the incline. He got to the top. Instead of a peak, the roof ended at a stone wall. He couldn’t see much in the mist so he began running his fingers along the surface, trying to find any kind of purchase. A noise startled him. Askaro froze.
There was a soft whisper. “Come this way.”
Askaro turned and found Blin beside him. “How did you get here?”
Blin grinned. “The same way I always do. Climbed up the vines growing by the old hotel.” He pointed down the wall. “Follow me.”
Askaro stayed close to the wall, minding each footstep on the slick tiles, and kept the shadowy form in sight. They passed several gable peaks before coming to a corner in the wall. There was a narrow ledge beyond. The wall beside the ledge was rock. Askaro looked upward. The wall of rock was a black mass that disappeared up into the fog. “Is this the mountain top?”
Blin pulled him back toward the stone wall. There were pieces missing from it. His guide climbed over the broken section and looked back. “Well, are you coming or not?”
Askaro looked down at the little bit of rooftop he could see below. If he couldn’t see the streets then the men looking for him couldn’t see him either. He sighed and went to the gap. Blin moved back to let Askaro climb over the rubble. Askaro was surprised when his feet felt something different. He reached down and touched the ground. “This is grass. Where are we?”
Blin moved toward a lighter spot in the wall of fog. “One of the few places you can find water. Come on. I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty.”
As they moved toward the brighter area, Askaro could hear a soft trickle. The mist swirled around something bright. He’d never seen anything like it. Water flowed from some kind of twisting white structure and splashed into a lit basin. He looked down into the water and could see flickering candles just below the surface. It didn’t seem possible. He reached into the water and his fingers made contact. “Oh, it has a glass bottom.” He glanced over at Blin who was scooping water out of the basin and drinking it. “What is this?”
Blin stopped and looked at him. “It’s called a fountain. Took me a while but I figured out how it works. There are little buckets on a cord inside the center post. You can see them in the gap at the bottom. The cord keeps moving all the time so that the buckets scoop up water and take it to the top where it gets dumped and runs back down. I don’t know what makes the rope move. Can’t see past the candle shelf. I’ve watched the servants change the candles though.”
Askaro tasted the water. It wasn’t too bad so he drank his fill. He noticed Blin was watching him. “What did you want back in that shop when you tapped me on the leg? Were you trying to warn me about the trackers?”
Blin looked away and sighed. “I was looking to see if you had a purse. Most folk around here tucks their purses under their shirt tails.”
“I’ve never carried a purse. When I need to carry anything, I just put it in one of the pouches of my belt.” He thought about what he’d tucked away. “Are you hungry?”
Blin looked back at him. “Ain’t everyone?”
Askaro pulled out the half-eaten roll, broke it in two, and held out a piece. “Master Gustav gave me this. You’re welcome to share what I have left.”
Blin slowly reached out, as if afraid the offered bread would be withdrawn. He took it and began to eat. When they’d finished, Blin looked up. “Why did you help me back there?”
Askaro picked at the crumbs that had fallen on his shirt. “They are after me, not you.”
Blin’s eyes went wide. “I know those men. They work for Golarin, the Slave Tracker. You don’t look like no slave. You got no metal ring around your neck.”
Askaro pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. He wasn’t sure how to explain his situation. “My mother was captured in a raid but my father claimed her as a wife. There are some people that think I’m a slave because of that. A man who doesn’t like my family grabbed me and tried to sell me but I got away. Now Golarin and his men are chasing me.”
Blin whistled. “Bad deal. Can’t you just go home?”
Askaro closed his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get back there but I don’t know my way around. The trackers always seem to be ahead of me.”
“I could help. I know my way around. What part of the city do you live in?”
Askaro heard a sliding noise. In the fog, it was hard to be sure where it was coming from. He put his finger to his lips and pointed toward the wall. He saw Blin tense and nod. They quietly crept toward the wall and made their way back along it. A commotion broke out behind them. Askaro glanced back.
Two shapes were slowly walking around the fountain. One turned to the other. “Are you sure you heard voices up here? There’s nothing.”
The other stooped and began feeling along the ground. “I tell you I did. I heard them talking as I was changing out the candles. Look. See how the grass is pressed down here?”
The other man scoffed. “Or those could be our footprints from dancing around this fountain in the damp fog. You’re an idiot. I don’t know why the Master keeps you on. Let’s go back in. We’ve got plenty of work waiting for us.” They disappeared from the light.
Askaro heard the sliding sound again and realized it must have been a door. He leaned against the wall and relaxed. “That was close.” He kept his voice down. “Who lives here?”
Blin shrugged. “Some uppity rich family. They don’t calls it Snob Nob for nothing.”
Askaro looked up again. Lighter places in the fog defined windows
somewhere above them. The Captain of the Magnificent lived up there somewhere. “Is there any way to get up to the top?”
Blin moved forward and went through the crack in the wall. He motioned for Askaro to follow then settled on the ledge. “Not unless you can get across the bridge. The guards won’t let anyone cross unless they live there or have a special pass.”
Askaro sighed. His best chance was still getting back to the Falcon. He leaned his head against the cold rock. “I seem to be going in circles. Isn’t there any other way out of this part of town besides Low Street?”
“That’s a real bottle neck. I’d imagine Golarin is watching it close.”
“To say nothing of the man who wants to sell me. I almost ran into him in the fog. That’s how I ended up in that shop. I ducked in to take cover.”
Blin stood up. “We should get down from here before the fog clears. I’ll show you how.”
Askaro followed him down the roof to where it intersected another. A vine grew along the wall at the corner. He watch Blin climb down then followed. He looked down the street to a dead end. The doors in the building ahead were ornate. There were tall windows on either side of the doorway. The area was well lit. There were numerous doors and windows in the connected buildings on either side of the street. “What is this place?”
Blin started down the other street. “Used to be a fancy hotel. People from all over the realm once stayed here. But no more. They built a newer one on the other side of the harbor. No one respectable wants to come to Old Town. Now I guess they rent out the rooms to who ever has the coin to pay.”
They got to an intersection that Askaro recognized. “This is where Fowler turns to go down the stairs.”
Blin pointed in the direction of the big stairway. “The shop we was in is that way. Ahead of us is the Maze. There’s still some shops there for regular folk. Most of the others are either empty or have been broken into and are used by the likes of us.” He glanced at Askaro. “Or me anyway.”
Askaro saw someone wearing a long cloak approaching from the stairs. Blin grabbed his arm and pulled him down the street. He got turned around as Blin led him through the narrow passages between the buildings. They finally ducked into a doorway. Blin crawled in through a broken corner of the door. Askaro followed.
The interior was nearly dark. He couldn’t see anything. He heard movement and Blin’s soft whisper. “Over here.”
Askaro followed the sound. He found Blin behind an overturned table. “Is this where you live?”
“If you can call it living. It’s where I usually sleep anyway.”
His eyes had adjusted to the gloom. There were other tables and lots of chairs. The windows were covered over with boards. “What do you do the rest of the time?”
Blin settled back against the wall. “Roams around the streets, looking for the right ones.”
Askaro made himself comfortable. “The right ones?”
“The ones who might have a purse full of coins tucked away in a place I could reach.”
Askaro gasped. “You’d steal it?”
“Course I would. I’m a thief.”
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Askaro of the Falcon Page 12
